TELEPHONE CALL
A 10-minute radio story by Nancy Oloro Robarts
Synopsis
A telephone call from Mama triggers Ssanyu’s bitter memories and raises false hopes. She travels home to her village, not knowing that what she finds there will change her life forever.
(sound of a moving bus changing gear)
“Awo sebo”, she called out. The conductor pretended not to have heard.
“Kikirira sebo!” she bellowed in a louder voice.
The driver looked back at his passengers. His bloodshot eyes searched. The taxi drew to a sudden stop. It threatened to roll back down the hill. There was murmuring and jeering from the passengers.
The door slid open. One by one, passengers got out of her way. She clambered out. She demanded her luggage. The conductor made as if he had not heard, then headed for the boot. He pulled out the only white sack and dumped it on the muddy ground. The engine revved, belching black smoke. Slowly the taxi began climbing the hill, again. Ssanyu gave the conductor one last stern look and smiled mischievously as he ran after the taxi.
(faint sound of birds, squirrels, frogs, bees, cocks crowing)
She looked around. Below the hill a boda boda laboured its way towards her. She shook her head. She would walk. He pedaled in the opposite direction. Here it was very different from the city! So peaceful. The air was filled with the sweet scent of coffee trees in bloom.
She had mixed feelings about this journey. That strange phone call! It felt ominous. Yet she couldn’t wait to see Mama again. It had been almost a year. Would this mean the end of Owino market?
(silence and a deep sigh)
She would miss Owino. It was two years since she had been forced to set up her stall there. Two years already!
( silence)
She remembered when she had completed her senior six in Kololo S.S. What a relief! It had felt like ages. But then Mama had said, “Ssanyu, whether you have passed or not, I have no more money to pay for your education.”
Gone were the days when Mama would have celebrated her academic achievements. To go to Makerere University, one had to pay. Results came. She had failed. Mama had been kind.
(mimics her)
“Ssanyu you must do business. I have little money for you to start. Sell in Owino. Men’s clothes go faster.”.
What? Sell in Owino? What would her friends think? And, Kasule! The head boy of City High School! Ssanyu is selling clothes in OWINO! That would be the end. Nakazi, that girl she hated would finally win the race. Nakazi was from a rich family anyway. She and Kasule would meet in Makerere. Her heart ached. She had sulked for a long time… but soon had given in. And now…
(silence)
…now the possibility of leaving Owino… As she walked, she remembered. The songs they sang to woo customers… Sometimes in Luganda, or Kiswahili and even English!
(faint sounds of a busy market in the background)
Bbeeyi laisi!
Mujje mugule! Mujje mwenna!
Kikumi kikumi!
The Bantu stood out. Such flat noses! Their big round faces matched their generous hearts. The tall handsome Luo! Dark skins! Forbidding looks that melted away when they smiled, displaying white teeth! That reminded her of a line in a poem… “Lapobo, her teeth as white as milk...” The Hamites were tall and smart. A lighter shade of skin! Tender-hearted and loving! She hiked prices for them. Some were fools to pay.
(the market place fades down and the sounds of the countryside are heard)
Ssanyu adjusted the sack on her head. Walking allowed her to enjoy the fresh village air. It was a quiet day. Many people slept in on Sunday before going for a church service at the school. She had missed being able to balance a load on her head without being knocked sideways. Kampala was a nightmare. The blaring horns! The traffic jams!
The familiar path wound its way like a snake across her ancestral graves. This was home. She had grown up here. Ssanyu passed her old school, deserted now. She remembered the countless times she had walked this path. Her first day at school! How she had clung to Mama’s skirts. Weeping loudly when the teacher tore her away! Children watching wide-eyed! But later she had loved school!
A black mamba slithered across the path a few metres away. It stopped, raised its head, flicked its tongue and slid into the bushes. Mama always said, ‘A black mamba is a bad omen.’ The last time she and Mama had seen a black mamba cross the path, grandmother had died the next day. Mama with her superstitions! Thinking of Mama she remembered the telephone call last night. She had wondered who it was. Then the familiar loud voice!
“Ssanyu it’s me. Mama! Don’t you know my voice anymore?”
She had screamed! Even Mama could use mobile phones? The world had changed.
“You must come home darling.”
“But Mama…”
“No Ssanyu! No buts this time. Listen to your old Mama for a while…
(the mother laughs happily)
“But Mama I have always listened to you…”
Mama rumbled on and on. She needed to learn how to talk on the phone.
“We are rich, Ssanyu! Millionaires! We can build a real house now. You don’t have to sweat in Owino. Not my baby. Come home right away…”
(the buzzing of a telephone line, then silence)
Music
(the sound of a telephone pad being operated, the buzzing of an empty line, Ssanyu hisses with impatience, silence)
The line had gone dead in the middle of Mama’s call. Ssanyu had tried to call back but no luck.
The night had been long. Ssanyu had tossed in her bed thinking of Mama’s news. They were rich? Could she go back to school? But where did the money come from? Did Mama sell land? What about all the bad stories? Was Mama aware that people had been hurt because of greed for land?
(silence)
Maybe father had left her a fortune? Mama hated to talk about him. Ssanyu had never insisted. She knew he was a dean in Makerere University. She had overheard Mama’s friends saying how cruel he had been to her. Mama was illiterate. She had almost thrown Ssanyu out of the house when she had asked about that. Since then, that chapter was closed.
Ssanyu had made up her mind to board the first taxi and go home. Now, as she walked through the familiar path she was shocked at the changes!
(sounds of a construction site fade up, a digger is chugging)
Land was fenced. Even the huge mango trees that she had climbed as a child to pick up juicy fruits were gone! A white truck loaded with bricks came roaring down the hill.
Mud houses were gone! Brick houses sprouted everywhere. Walls! Foundations! Eucalyptus trees had been cut down to make scaffolding! Men were laughing and calling out insults as they worked on the roof of a semi finished house.
Ssanyu missed the old quiet village. This was not what she wanted to come back to. She quickened her pace as she saw their little mud house. It was sandwiched by new buildings! Their kraal was gone! A yellow bulldozer was parked there! Her heart sank. She saw men fencing away their land. But she trusted Mama. A tear escaped her wide eyes and rolled to bless the land she had grown to love as a child. She would keep those beautiful memories. No one would dare take them away.
Their door was ajar. She called out to Mama as she hauled the heavy sack off her head.
“Mama, I am home…”
There was dead silence. She tried again.
“Mama it’s Ssanyu. Is the luwombo ready? I am hungry. We town people like to eat real food early in the morning.”
(silence)
She leaned the sack against the only tree that stood on the leveled ground. Mama had gone a little deaf. Ssanyu entered expectantly.
(calls out loudly)
“Mama! Mama! It’s Ssanyu. Your baby is...”
(a gasp of horror)
Mama lay, spread eagled in the middle of the room. Congealing blood stained the once white mat. Her beautiful face was twisted in pain. Flies buzzed around her. A blood stained iron bar lay close by, witness to the cruel deed!
“Mama what happened? Who has attacked you?”
Mama moved, she was alive!
“Ssanyu darling… my baby…”
Ssanyu knelt to stroke her face.
“I have to get help…”
“No Ssanyu. Listen to your Mama… for the last time… I was worried you would come too late. I wanted to sell half the land…. half the land only…I wanted… the best for you… The buyer said I should sell more…he persuaded me …it was for the best, he said…so I sold it…all the land… my God!...I signed papers…we have to get out now... no one is safe…
(she moans in pain)
No Ssanyu…listen to me…A few hours ago… thieves came…jackals…men who covered their faces… but I knew them…yes, I knew them…they took all the money back. SSanyu…I am sorry …you have come home… to nothing...”
(her voice fades to silence)
Ssanyu wept as she cradled Mama. In their faces was written a new anthem as her life ebbed away into the soil, into the land that had once been theirs.
(silence, then Ssanyu’s voice whispers)
“Awo sebo?”
(then desperately)
“Kikirira sebo!”
(sounds of the digger fade up, then fade away)
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© Nancy Oloro Robarts